


What’s a Life Worth Living?

by wangjinae



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Also Neville teaches herbology, And so are the weasleys, F/F, F/M, Gen, Harry completely takes on to much and makes himself sick, Harry is a Good Dad, Harry was abused, Lucius Malfoy is dead but Narcissa is a supportive queen, M/M, Most people go back for eighth year, Ron and hernione and Ginny and Luna and literally everyone else is just worried about him, and Draco is basically their protector, and he finds a married OC couple to apprentice under, but Draco also wants some semblance of rules, but he’s soft too don’t worry, but ministry people are bigoted, but not Harry or Draco, draco wants to become an auror, especially Mrs Weasley who sends Harry and Draco too much food, everyone has post war mental illnesses, everyones basically just smol beans and trying to be friends, harrh and Teddy live at grimmauld place, harry and Teddy are just smol beans, harry just wants to be a healer, he loves his friends but is busy all the time, just a fluffy fluffy fic, kingsley shacklebolt is a good minister of magic (finally), past mentions of child abuse, so harry steps in, so he wants to give Teddy a perfect childhood, teddy grows up with the best dads ever, teddy is Harry’s son, wow why is my timeline so messed up oh well the story will probably make sense anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:30:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wangjinae/pseuds/wangjinae
Summary: As Teddy Lupin’s godfather, Harry decides to adopt Teddy. But what happens when he overworks himself, and a certain blond haired man must step in?Based off of a tumblr(?) prompt.I apologize for any inaccuracies. I am not, nor do I claim to be, British.





	1. Every Son Needs a Loving (God)Father

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to my story! Sorry if my writing is trash, but I loved this prompt and wanted to give it a go. Warning: deals with past abuse, mentions of depression, PTSD, possible past self harm?, and anxiety  
> Please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with same sex relationships or any topics listed above! :) <3, Jinae

Harry Potter wasn’t a normal eighteen year old boy. For starters, he was a wizard. He had also defeated one of the most powerful forces of evil that had ever struck the wizarding world, Lord Voldemort. He had been the youngest seeker in a century, the only ever fourth Tri-Wizard competitor, the sole person to survive the Killing Curse, and the famed Golden Boy, the Chosen One, one third of the Gryffindor Golden Trio. Not to mention the proud parent of a small child.

 

The child wasn’t his, of course. Harry was just the godfather of little Teddy Lupin. His parents had died in the battle of Hogwarts. Teddy’s father, Remus Lupin, had been one of James Potter’s closest friends, and had entrusted the care of Teddy to Harry, should Remus’s (very likely) death come up him.

 

Andromeda Tonks, Teddy’s grandmother, had offered to raise Harry until he had finished his schooling at Hogwarts, and figured out his career path. Harry had politely refused, opting to study for his NEWTS alone, instead of attending Hogwarts for a voluntary eighth year. (For many seventh year students of the previous year did not get proper education, as the school had been overrun by Death Eaters.)

 

This very important decision stemmed from Harry’s own childhood. His parents had died when he was just one year old, and his godfather, wrongly accused of assisting the Dark Lord in their murder, had been sent to Azkaban, the wizarding prison. As Harry had no rightful guardian to take him in, he was sent to his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Albus Dumbledore had misguidedly believed that this was the best place for him, sheltering him from his fame at surviving Voldemort’s attack, and giving him protection through his new guardians’ care and his mother’s protection, harnessed through familial blood wards. However, to this day, no one, not even Harry’s closest friends, knew quite the extent of the abuse he had suffered at, quite literally, their hands.

 

Now Harry, at eighteen, insisted upon caring for young Teddy Lupin, and giving him the loving childhood that Harry himself had never been able to enjoy. He felt he owed it to both Teddy and Remus (and he still felt at fault for Remus’s death).

 

Harry’s life plan at this point essentially consisted of getting passing marks on his NEWTS, becoming a healer (Harry had decided against being an auror; he had seen enough conflict for a lifetime), and being the best guardian that Teddy could ask for. Even though, being the heir to both the Potter and Black fortunes, he would never be required to work for a living, Harry felt that he would need an ambition to pursue, something to throw himself into, especially once Teddy became of age for Hogwarts. Healing had seemed a good choice for him, so he decided on a NEWT course consisting of Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Between all his responsibilities, he would have his work cut out for him, but Harry felt that he could handle it.

 

A person who knew how bad his childhood was might’ve been concerned that he would poorly treat a child, but with Harry, it was the complete opposite. He completely threw himself into taking care of Teddy. Even suffering from depression and PTSD, Harry was nothing but kind and gentle to Teddy. Anytime Teddy cried, Harry would comfort him, calm him, as he had always wished someone would’ve done for him when he was cold, lost, and shivering in a dark, lonely cupboard under the stairs. Harry never complained that Teddy cried to much, never lost his temper at him, or said the he was a nuisance, but instead was patient. Sometimes Teddy would climb up on his lap while Harry was studying, and Harry would never scold him or tell him to go away, but instead show Teddy pictures of amazing plants and creatures (and always insist that lots of werewolves were nice people, no matter how scary the picture looked), brew him funny potions at the work table he had set up, or produce small jets of sparks with his wand.

 

Even disciplining Teddy, Harry was always soft. In one instance, Harry had been cooking breakfast for the two of them, and went into Teddy’s room to find him out of his crib. After frantically searching the house, he finally discovered Teddy in the library, surrounded by pages of one of Harry’s charms books. Once Harry finished mentally berating himself for not paying closer attention to the small boy, he sat down on the floor beside Teddy, and looked him gently in the eyes. “Hey,” Harry had said softly. “It’s not nice to destroy other people’s things, Teddy.” Teddy had looked at him, forlorn, and Harry felt so bad for having to scold him, but knew he had to stand his ground.

 

But Teddy, almost two years old, had surprised him. “I’s sorry,” he squeaked. “Me and Dada clean up?”

 

Harry had teared up at being called Teddy’s dad. “I’ll go get some tape,” he had said, smiling, “and after breakfast, me and my Teddy can clean this up together.” Harry had hugged him, made sure that Teddy ate a substantial amount of food, then went with him to go find a roll of Muggle tape Harry kept in his desk drawer. The two of them had spent the better part of the morning piecing the book together with tape. Harry could’ve done it quicker with magic, and he fixed it up properly afterwards, but knew that Teddy could learn a valuable lesson by helping to fix something he broke. Harry was very proud of him for being genuinely repentant, and being willing to correct his mistakes.

 

As time went on, Teddy exhibited metamorphagos abilities, and a penchant for mischief. Harry constructed an area of his smaller study library across from the stairs with a baby gate around it, so he could watch Teddy and read his textbooks at the same time. One day, while Harry was contemplating a new principle he was reading about, the mischievous little one jiggled the baby gate open, and decided to go exploring. He had ended up staring at the small cupboard under the stairs which Harry had never gotten rid of. The door on the cupboard was loose, and when Harry looked up for his textbook, he discovered a tiny life form playing happily with his stuffed dog in the small space. Harry had felt his heart and throat clench up, and had rushed to scoop baby Teddy out of the cupboard under the stairs, and had promptly vanished it, leaving only a layer of plaster. It wouldn’t have been dangerous in there, everything that could potentially harm Teddy was safely out of reach, but he couldn’t stand seeing his (and Teddy really was his now) sweet, innocent, little child in such a confined space. After that, Harry had felt so-so- sad, and he had spent the rest of the day in Teddy’s room, cradling him and sobbing, rocking back and forth. For some reason, Teddy always had retained that one memory, and always wondered what had made his Dada so dismayed.

 

Harry did everything he could to protect the child, and loved him so much. Teddy had his own room, connected to Harry’s, but more often than not, Teddy slept in Harry’s arms, letting Harry’s loving arms calm him to sleep. On nights like these, Harry always cast silencing charms around himself, soon wandlessly, and was careful not to wake him with his thrashing from his night terrors.

 

He felt the need to shower Teddy with all the affection he could, so Harry cooked every meal for Teddy, pushing through painful flashbacks of burnt flesh and high-pitched screeching, anxiety and occasional panic attacks. Teddy deserved all of his love and more, everything Harry could give him, and everything Harry couldn’t. Teddy would never starve in his own home, not when there was ample food to give him. He wouldn’t feed Teddy enough to be unhealthful, but Harry would make sure he was well-fed with homemade food.

 

Harry never let his temper get the best of him when it came to Teddy. He never raised his voice (and surely not his hand!), and pushed through anything he was feeling, anxiety, exhaustion, the ever-lurking depressive thoughts, the flashbacks, and the nightmares. No, Harry would make sure that Teddy had the best childhood he could provide, even if he was hurting himself in the process.


	2. Pushing Through Pain, Because That’s Just How It Goes, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for not updating in so long. My mental stability comes and goes. This and the future chapters are in a different tense than the first one, as that was more of a prologue. These two chapters also steal some exact quotes and big ideas from the prompt that I’m using. I can promise that I will finish a third chapter, but I don’t know if I’ll have inspiration to start a large story off of this. Anyway, thanks for reading, and all the beautiful comments (even though I didn’t respond, I’m so sorry, but I do appreciate it so much), and I apologize for any mistakes or improper use of British words.  
> *contains mild cursing so yeah*  
> <3 Jinae

Harry wakes with a start, forcing himself out of another dream of the war. They’ve been getting steadily worse over the past few weeks, especially since Teddy has been sleeping in his crib more frequently, not by Harry’s side.

Harry casts a quick tempus, the glowing numbers informing him that it’s just past midnight. Internally sighing, he resigns himself to lay back and stair at the curtains above, charmed to look like the nighttime sky. 

Drowning in his thoughts, he almost misses the small whimpers coming from the adjoining room, until they turn into steady cries. Harry pushes himself out of bed, rushing over to Teddy’s crib. The small child is tossing about, rumpling his cotton bedsheets. 

Harry scoops him up at once, gently rubbing his back, but the cries don’t cease, and soon become hacking coughs. 

“Merlin, you’re sick,” Harry exclaims softly. “Let’s get you some medicine.” 

Harry walks down to the cabinet where he keeps potions ingredients, carrying Teddy on his hip. He also keeps Muggle medicine, just in case he ever needs it, and he’s thankful tonight for the power of science. Harry rummages around for a minute until he finds the cold medicine, a sickly sweet cherry-flavored liquid. He checks the label, then pours the right amount in the tiny measuring cup, helping Teddy drink it. Then, with soft steps, Harry carries him back up the stairs, into the conjoined bedrooms.

Peeking down at his face, Harry finds that Teddy is sleeping peacefully, his nose wrinkling just the slightest bit. Smiling to himself, Harry settles under the soft blankets, cradling Teddy in his arms.

•••

A few days later, Harry feels like someone’s hit him over the head with a frying pan. He hasn’t slept enough in the past in three days, forgets to eat, and he’s barely holding on to what little sanity he thinks he has left. Teddy’s been constantly grumpy, throwing all of the objects in his line of sight, and often throwing tantrums without cause. He can’t sleep at night, and hardly eats, won’t take his cough medicine, who knew parenting could be this hard? Harry honestly doesn’t know what to do anymore but can’t bring himself to call his friends to ask for help. 

He’s been patient the whole time, as always, soothing Teddy through his nightmares and bad moods, keeping a tight grip on his emotions. But every ordeal has left him feeling as if he has a giant, gaping hole in his brain. 

Today, especially, he feels completely dead. At this point, Harry’s certain he’s sick, feeling dizzy and nauseous at every turn. It’s likely the flu, he surmises, although he shouldn’t have gotten the flu from a simple cold. He’s failing. He should be able to get through a simple, bloody illness, right? He’s defeated Voldemort, for heaven’s sake. Besides, he has to be strong, never weak for his godson, and right now, he’s being too weak.

Again, he is awoken for the third time that night (although it’s really closer to dawn) to Teddy crying next to him, his nose all stuffed up. Harry takes him to the bathroom for a tissue, and helps him get cleared up. 

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Harry murmurs, putting him back to sleep again, waiting until he’s snoring softly to creep away and start on breakfast. 

•••

Later that day, Harry has dragged a mattress into the study to let Teddy play, while trying to get some work done. He’s a bloody idiot, because of course he couldn’t have transfigured an object into a bed. He just has to drag the mattress down the whole flight of stairs, he has to stop being this useless. He’s drifting off to sleep, Teddy next to him now. It’s a breath of fresh air after having survived on a collective two hours for Merlin knows how long.

But of course, there’s no rest for a savior of the sodding Wizarding World. For at that moment, the floo flares to life, and who could step through but Draco bloody Malfoy. 

And surely, that fact that Malfoy is standing there, right there in his house is enough, right, right? Except, the first six words out of the bloody ponce’s mouth are, “Merlin Potter, you look like shit.” 

And now Harry’s just laughing hysterically, because that’s how he’s feeling. Of course he’s gotten sick! Of course he can’t sleep! Of course Malfoy walks through his house uninvited and curses in front of Teddy! And now Harry’s mad again, because Malfoy has just cursed in front of Teddy, even though he’s still sleeping, and he’s standing right here, and Harry’s head feels like a pincushion, and he’s on fire, and is his throat swelling, and he can barely choke out words, and days of sleepless nights all come pouring out as he bites out a response. 

“What are you doing here?” and his teeth are clenched, his temper rising like it hasn’t for years, sure his issues with Malfoy are resolved, but it’s unfair to insult him, especially when he feels like shit now too.

And Malfoy just looks down at him. “He’s my cousin, and I had time before class, I wanted to check on him. Anyway, no one’s heard from you in a week and Granger and Weasley are worried.” 

“Did Hermione put you up to this, then?” Harry means for it to come out in a more defiant manner, but, instead he positively deflates. Backtracking, Harry sighs. “Look, I appreciate the intervention, but Ron and Hermione are studying for their NEWTS, they’re in a relationship, they’re busy. I don’t want to burden them with my problems.”

“You’re studying for your NEWTS too,” Malfoy says, and it feels like a retort because Harry can’t explain this whole mess, and he’s so frustrated, but he tries, going on about responsibility and how they didn’t sign up for this, and everyone’s done so much, too much, for him, and the least he could do is give them peace for once. 

When he runs out of things to say, Harry just ends up mumbling a quiet, “You don’t understand.” 

And Malfoy plops down into a chair, and rubs the bridge of his nose. Of course, this will only make his stay longer, and he doesn’t need this right now.

“Harry,” Malfoy starts, and it startles Harry, because since when did Malfoy use his first name? “You need to let us help you. You’re not a burden because you’re our friend, and this is how friendship works. Right now, you’re trying to do this alone, and you’re just getting hurt, and it’s too much.” He lifts up a sleeping Teddy in his arms, and it’s a stark contrast to the usual picture of Draco Malfoy. 

And then Harry panics. He can’t let Draco have Teddy, what if he wakes up and thinks that Harry’s abandoned him, what if no one is there and he needs medicine? And rationally, Harry knows his godson is completely fine, but when he’s sick like this, his mind goes into overdrive, and is it just his bad eyesight, it is the world tilting a little? And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so bad to sleep for a while, so he falls back in the mattress, and falls hard into a restless sleep.


End file.
